So what If I'm a sletherin

Chapter twenty: The Hidden Legacy

The orrery (mémorisé it you'll need it soon)

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Pansy Parkinson's voice was a soft hum in Vindimiatrix Laxley's ear as they folded robes and carefully packed away schoolbooks. Pansy was going on about the latest rumors circulating through Hogwarts, her words punctuated by the occasional clink of potion bottles being nestled into bubble wrap.
"Can you believe what they're saying about Professor Binns?" Pansy whispered conspiratorially. "That he might actually have been awake during a class?"
Vindimiatrix chuckled, shaking her head. "I'll believe it when I see it, Pans. Though, with our luck, he'd probably fall asleep right before revealing the secrets of the ancient runes."
Pansy smirked, tossing a pair of socks into Vindimiatrix's open trunk. "Speaking of secrets, have you heard about The Quibbler's latest? They’re claiming that Fudge is using goblin-made cufflinks to influence the Wizengamot."
"That's... oddly specific," Vindimiatrix replied, her mood light despite the heavy thoughts of her family awaiting her return.
The two girls finished packing and made their way down to the Slytherin common room where Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Draco Malfoy were lounging on the emerald-encrusted sofas.
"Finally," Draco drawled, eyeing their trunks. "I was beginning to think you'd decided to live out of those things."
"Oh, hush, Draco," Pansy retorted, taking a seat next to him. "We ladies have more to pack than just a toothbrush and a comb."
Theodor piped up from his corner, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Do you think you could survive a whole summer without your hair gel, Draco?"
The common room erupted in laughter as Draco's cheeks flushed a shade that almost matched Gryffindor's colors. Vindimiatrix shook her head, her laughter mingling with the others'.
Blaise leaned forward, a deck of Exploding Snap cards in his hands. "Anyone up for a game before we leave?"
"I'm in," Vindimiatrix said, settling into an armchair. "But no cheating this time, Blaise."
"As if I would," Blaise replied with mock offense.
The game was filled with friendly banter and playful jabs, the tension of their impending departure momentarily forgotten.

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After a long train ride to King's Cross Station, filled with Draco's complaints about the tedium, Vindimiatrix felt the familiar pang of dread. Her grandparents stood on the platform, their eyes as cold and unforgiving as the winter frost. She bid a hasty farewell to her friends, her heart sinking as she walked towards her family.
"Vindimiatrix," her grandmother's voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the bustling station.
"Grandmother, grandfather," she greeted, her voice steady despite her trepidation.
With a final look at her departing friends, she was whisked away with a sharp crack as they apparated back to Laxley Manor.
Aunt Eleonore was waiting for her, a warm smile on her face providing a stark contrast to her grandparents' chilly reception. Vindimiatrix embraced her, soaking up the brief comfort.
"How was school, dear?" Eleonore asked, leading her away from the coldness of the manor, almost as if she could sense Vindimiatrix's unease.
Vindimiatrix nodded, her thoughts drifting despite her best efforts to stay present. "It was... eventful," she managed to say.
"Come, let's get you settled. I’m sure you're eager to unpack," Eleonore encouraged, leading her through the familiar, if not somewhat oppressive, halls of Laxley Manor.
As they reached her room, a place that felt more like a beautifully decorated cell than a sanctuary, Vindimiatrix began to unpack her trunk. Eleonore watched for a moment before addressing the elephant in the room.
"I heard about your condition I'm sorry I didn't visit , mother wouldn't let me , but I'm glad you're alright Vindi" Eleonore said carefully, her eyes searching Vindimiatrix's for any sign of distress.
Vindimiatrix merely nodded, not wanting to delve into the painful memories. "I understand, Aunt Eleonore. Thank you for asking ."
Eleonore reached out, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We do what we must for the family. Remember, you can always talk to me, dear."

With that, Eleonore left the room, and Vindimiatrix was alone with her thoughts. But as she continued to unpack, a faint whisper seemed to slip through the cracks of the silence, a sibilant voice calling her name.
"Vindimiatrix..."
The voice felt like a caress against her mind, compelling her to follow. She moved as if in a trance, her feet carrying her through the manor's labyrinthine corridors, up the creaking steps to the attic.
The attic was a place of shadows and dust, filled with the relics of her family's past. But it was the soft glow emanating from behind a stack of antique furniture that drew her in. Pushing aside a heavy tapestry, she uncovered a hidden alcove where an object rested on a plinth, bathed in an ethereal light.
It was a beautifully crafted orrery, with planets and moons made of precious metals and stones orbiting around a central, glowing crystal. As she reached out to touch it, the orrery sprang to life, the celestial bodies moving in a harmonious dance.
As Vindimiatrix stood in the attic, the soft glow of the orrery bathing the room in an otherworldly light, she felt a surge of determination and curiosity unlike anything she had experienced before. The symbols etched around the base of the artifact seemed to pulse with an ancient power, and as she traced them with her fingertips, their meanings began to unravel in her mind.
Beneath the crystal, inscriptions written in the ancient, symbolic language of her ancestors spiraled around the base. The symbols seemed to pulse with a hidden power, and as Vindimiatrix's eyes traced their contours, the words they represented echoed in her mind:
𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌏𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌂𐌄𐌓𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌀✵🜏 🜋🝮 🜁🜄🜊🜂 🜛🜏🝊🜍🜎🜋🜢 🜃🝅🜉🜔 🜄🜑🝒🜋🜢🜊𐌓𐌂𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌓𐌄𐌓𐌕𐌏𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌂𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌓𐌏𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌔𐌄𐌄𐌓𐌕𐌏𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓🜏🜁🜇 🜄🜋🜏🜒🝎🜄🜔,𐌓𐌂𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌓𐌄𐌓𐌕𐌏𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌂𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌔𐌓𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌂𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌓𐌄𐌓𐌕𐌏🜏🜁🜇 🜄🜋 🜏🜒🝎🜄🜔,
🜋🜢🜊 🜂🜎🜔🜋🝬 🝊🜎🜒🜏🜔 🜄🜋𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌂𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌓𐌏𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓𐌂𐌄𐌓𐌌𐌓𐌄𐌓𐌕𐌏𐌓𐌌𐌀𐌓
The symbols seemed to form a riddle, a cryptic message waiting to be deciphered
The words seemed to reverberate within her, as if they held the key to unlocking the long-buried secrets of her family's past. Vindimiatrix's heart raced with excitement and a tinge of apprehension as she realized the significance of the artifact before her. It was not merely a beautiful heirloom; it was a doorway to a hidden legacy that had been veiled in mystery for generations.
As she reached out to touch the orrery, a surge of energy coursed through her, filling her with a sense of purpose and determination. It was as if the artifact had chosen her, calling upon her to delve into the enigmatic past of the Laxley family and to unearth the truths that had long been obscured.
The whispers of the orrery seemed to grow louder, urging her to seek the answers that lay concealed within the labyrinthine history of her lineage. Vindimiatrix felt a surge of resolve as she accepted the challenge, knowing that the journey ahead would be fraught with peril and revelation, but also with the promise of unlocking the hidden potential and power that had been woven into the fabric of her ancestry.
With each passing moment, the weight of the responsibility she now bore settled upon her shoulders. She understood that the artifact held the key to unveiling secrets that had the potential to redefine the destiny of the Laxley lineage for generations to come.
As she stood in the attic, surrounded by the relics of her family's past, Vindimiatrix made a silent vow to unearth the secrets that the artifact hinted at. She knew that the path she was about to tread would lead her to confront truths that would challenge the very foundation of her beliefs and reshape her understanding of her family's legacy.
Armed with the orrery as her guide and the enigmatic symbols as her map, Vindimiatrix embarked on a quest to uncover the long-buried family secrets. She was determined to unravel the mysteries that had been shrouded in the mists of time, knowing that the journey would test her courage, wit, and resilience.
Little did she know that the artifact would become a focal point, leading her to a dark path,a path with no come back .

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